


Every Little Thing

by Tulikettu



Series: Ways and Means [3]
Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: Chris Pratt is a bro, M/M, Notebook style reunion, Tom gets to be on top, bottom!Ryan, they're gonna need more lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 20:32:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10952199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tulikettu/pseuds/Tulikettu
Summary: It's been seven months.Ryan wants Tom.Tom wants Ryan.But it's been seven months...





	Every Little Thing

**Author's Note:**

> First off, I'm pretty sure this can kind of stand on it's own, but it's probably better if you go back and read the other two parts. Then you can decide for yourself if Ryan is being a tool.
> 
> Also, I'm not that happy with this part. I've gone through and edited it like, three times and now I'm just- urgh. Y'know? I hope some of you get some enjoyment out of it. 
> 
> One more part to follow!

The room is full of smiling people, most of whom Ryan loves dearly. It’s one of the reasons he enjoys big events like this, conventions in cities outside of California. Everyone stays close by, or stays in the same hotel. Like a big group holiday! And because all of his co-stars are much more relaxed than they usually are on set, they’re well-rested, and there are people here he hasn’t seen in many months. Ryan is a happy boy.

 

He shakes hands with a few people as he moves around the main hall which is being set up with stalls and stands, giant images of characters and familiar faces being hoisted up onto walls. He makes a little detour towards the table that has their passes and itineraries to grab his things so that he knows where he’s supposed to be and when he can put on his Deadpool costume-

 

Now, Ryan has seen  _ The Notebook _ a number of times, both as favours to women and for inebriated entertainment. He’s seen that one scene,  _ the scene _ , mocked a thousand times. It seems ridiculous to him, running at someone, flying into their arms. It’s dumb. He’s never understood why everyone thinks it’s so passionate. What if you both end up on the floor with broken bones? Not so sexy then, is it?

 

But then again he’s never felt time stop when he’s seen someone across a room before, either. 

 

He supposes it just takes that one special person-

 

God, it’s been so long. So long. Six months? Seven? Seven months since they last spoke, since Tom walked out of his house. Ryan has diligently avoided as much as Tom as possible, and he’s clearly been doing a good job because he’s straight up forgotten just how beautiful he is. 

 

Tom gazes across the room at him, frozen mid-stride. There’s a pause, two seconds at most, only the slightest hesitation before they’re moving towards each other. Tom’s gaze is locked on Ryan, heated and determined, and Ryan is sure he’s mirroring it. He can feel the pull inside him at least, the need to be closer that’s propelling him forward. It’s comically romantic, the way they cross the space, ignoring everyone and everything around them to get to each other. Ryan isn’t thinking about that, though. He isn't thinking of the stupid cliche he's making of himself, nor is he thinking about the reactions of the people he just pushed aside without a word or apology. He can’t think of anything but Tom.

 

They haven’t spoken in over half a year, but that doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter at all.

 

Tom launches himself at Ryan when they’re close enough, arms and legs wrapping around his body, pressing his face against the older man’s neck. Ryan has one arm beneath Tom’s bottom for support, though Tom feels even more solid than he did before, and he probably doesn’t need the help. His other hand is on the back of Tom’s head, holding him possessively, the closer the better, and at the same time reassuring himself that his boy is really here. Ryan’s fingers run through soft brown hair and then down to slightly too warm skin at Tom’s neck.  He closes his eyes and breathes in, not caring who saw their  _ Notebook _ moment, because all that matters is that this  _ is _ happening.

 

Tom’s lips are like fire on his throat, and his fingers have slid up into Ryan’s hair, sending shivers down his body. 

 

“Are you seeing anyone?” Tom breathes urgently. “Please, tell me you’re single? Tell me you’re single and take me to bed.”

 

“I’m-” Ryan swallows heavily, lowering Tom to the floor, letting his hands drag from bottom to base of spine and down again. “I’m not seeing anyone. Let’s go.”

 

No questions. No hellos or anything else. Ryan doesn’t care. He’s blind to everyone around them as he turns, seeking the exit and the way back to his room, assuming Tom will follow him discretely.

 

Tom’s fingers slide into his own. So much for that.

 

Ryan stops in his tracks and looks at the boy beside him. Tom’s eyes are wide and suddenly nervous. It’s been seven months. He walked out of Ryan’s house without another word. Ryan understands  _ why _ he’s nervous. Even he thinks he’s being a mug right now, letting this  _ boy _ play with him. Letting him dictate when they speak and touch. Letting him call him Wade whenever there's anything like intimacy between them. But every thought he’s had about Tom, every little thing he’s forced himself to forget, every feeling he’s crushed down wells up again. He’s an idiot. He wants Tom too much.

 

Ryan tightens the grip of his fingers and sets his sights on the door again. He’s leaving, holding hands with Tom. People can see them leaving together. Let them think what they want. Everybody talks. 

 

They have to take the elevator up to Ryan’s room,  _ another _ romantic cliche. He jams his finger into the button to call it down, and  _ Goddamn _ does he want to indulge in that cliche. He wants to slam Tom against the fancy mirrored walls and touch him everywhere. He wants- he wants everything.

 

Tom leads, pulling him in as soon as the door opens, backing himself up against the far wall and dragging Ryan with him as though reading his mind. Ryan isn’t complaining, just making sure to stab at the big 12 button on the panel as they pass before he crowds himself into Tom’s space. 

 

“Ryan-” his name sounds amazing again, he can’t remember any different, he can’t remember how much it hurt the last time Tom said it.

 

“Hey, baby boy-” Ryan whispers back, lifting his hands to cup Tom’s cheeks, his eyes drinking him in. “Christ, I’ve missed you.”

 

Tom nods his head in agreement, plucking at the collar of Ryan’s poloshirt before his fingers glide up to stroke his jaw, running over the stubbled skin with such delicacy. They touch each other slowly for a few moments, eyes locked. The tips of their noses touch, a tiny shock of pleasure shooting through Ryan. They’ve had sex but this is the most intimate they’ve been. 

 

“I wanted- I wanted to call, or something,” Tom murmurs, touching his fingers to Ryan’s lips. “I’m sorry, I-”

 

The door chimes and rolls open. Ryan smiles, finding Tom’s hand again and leading him out into the corridor, their quick footsteps muffled by the carpet. He doesn’t want to hear Tom explain himself. If either of them think too much they might stop, change their minds. He doesn’t need to hear what Tom nearly did or might have done, because it didn’t happen. This  _ is _ happening, though. 

 

Ryan swipes them into his room, and the door is barely closed before Tom is in his arms again, wrapping around him and pushing their bodies together. His fingers thread through Ryan’s hair and his lips part against his neck, sucking soft kisses to the skin. All Ryan can do is let his hands roam up and down Tom’s back, basking in the attention. 

 

The last time Tom had asked to be taken to bed he’d all but ripped their clothes off as soon as the door had closed behind them, but now he’s standing in Ryan’s arms, kissing his throat, in no rush at all it seems. Not that Ryan is complaining. He’ll hold Tom like this for the rest of the night if that’s what Tom wants. Perhaps he’s just an old man, perhaps he’s being played with, but he thinks he’s probably okay with that.

 

At last Tom pulls back, pulls away enough that their eyes can meet. The look he gives Ryan stirs heat in his belly and makes him physically ache for this boy.

 

“Please, kiss me?” Tom asks, his voice heavy with want, though it trembles slightly with an anxiety Ryan isn’t expecting. But they’re the sweetest words Ryan has ever heard. 

 

He backs Tom up against the opposite wall, lifting his hands to once again cup his cheeks. Tom’s breathing is heavy, and Ryan can feel the rapid fluttering of his pulse under his fingers, smirking with satisfaction at the knowledge that this reaction is for him.

 

Their lips meet for the first time, and Tom whimpers so beautifully that Ryan thinks he must be dreaming. Their mouths open against each other, the kiss deepening. It’s been over a year since they first slept together, this first kiss has been a long time coming, and it feels as though both of them are trying to make up for lost time. Within seconds, Ryan is pushing Tom harder into the wall, grinding their bodies together whilst Tom pulls desperately at his hair, wanting him closer.

 

Their clothes are in the way.

 

Tom is only wearing a tshirt and jeans, and he’s more than happy to rid himself of his upper layer before insistently tugging Ryan’s polo shirt up. They break apart for a moment, both staring at the other with admiration and lust. Tom is definitely bigger, wider than before, his dancers body in the process of bulking out. Ryan himself has been spending a lot of time distracting himself from nothing in particular in the gym, his muscles as well defined as Tom will remember. But even still, he hears his lover draw in a breath, watches his eyes slide down Ryan’s chest to his stomach, and back up again, hungry and wanting. 

 

Tom moves first, eager fingers working at the buttons of Ryan’s jeans, pulling them open and  rubbing his palm against the outline of Ryan’s cock which stands out in the tight material of his underwear. It takes a few seconds for Ryan to join in, basking as he is in the attention, the needy, groping touches that Tom is bestowing on him. He drags Tom’s zipper down slowly, enjoying the moan he gets in return for the vibrations against his dick. Ryan smirks at the expression on Tom’s face, the way his eyelids flutter at the shivers of pleasure running through him. 

 

Ryan drops to his knees, pressing his mouth against Tom’s belly, littering it with kisses. He feels Tom’s fingers gliding through his hair, making his skin prickle with goosebumps. Ryan’s hands splay against Tom’s hips, holding him to the wall as his mouth ventures lower, nibbling at the tiny trail of hair that leads down into the boy’s underwear. 

 

Tom is aroused. For him. Hooking his fingers  into the waistband of his underwear, Ryan eases the fabric down gently, teasing himself as well as his boy. A whimper escapes him, a thrill of happiness filling his chest. 

 

Glancing up, Ryan gazes upon Tom’s face, but his lover’s eyes are closed, his mouth open slightly, letting out shaky little puffs of breath. Ryan parts his own lips and presses them to the skin in front of him, working his way slowly up Tom’s length to the tip of his cock, running his tongue over it to taste the bead of precome forming there. 

 

Tom’s fingers twitch hard, and a soft, strained moan slips from his lips.

 

“Ryan-” Christ, it really is a beautiful sound. “I need more. I need more of you-”

 

Ryan - and especially Ryan’s cock - agrees. It’s been so long, they need to be together. There’s time, there’s a whole weekend for this if they both want it, but everything about Tom is everything that Ryan needs, and he’ll probably end up blowing his load in his pants before they get any further. 

 

He pulls Tom’s pants and underwear down, helping him to step out of them. And then Tom is gloriously naked and hard, and his. He is Ryan’s. 

 

“You’re gorgeous,” he says earnestly, sitting back on his heels to look up at Tom.

 

A brilliant smile lights up Tom’s face, a kind of bashful flush colouring his skin.

 

“Shut up,” comes the murmured reply as Tom steps away from the wall, sauntering across the room to the bed, giving Ryan the perfect view of his ass. Ryan wants to be inside him. 

 

He scrambles to his feet and pulls his jeans down along with his underwear, letting them fall to the floor. Tom watches, a hungry look in his eyes from where he is knelt on the bed, fingers itching to reach out and touch. 

 

Ryan advances, naked, and Tom immediately kneels up to meet him, their mouths pressing together in a rough, dirty kiss. Tom is very handsy, pulling Ryan onto the bed and pushing him down against  the pillows. Ryan goes where instructed, letting Tom do anything he wants, though he’s hardly displeased with this new, forceful dominance (and the strength behind it) nor when Tom straddles his hips, sitting himself very purposefully so that Ryan’s cock fits into the cleft of his bottom. 

 

“You brought lube or something, right?” Tom pants. “Cos I’m not running down to the public toilets.”

 

“I could just eat you out, that’d get you ready,” Ryan smirks, though Tom doesn’t seem to find it as amusing. But it’s difficult for Ryan to be clever when his dick is being gently gripped by the asscheeks of this angel.

 

His hands moves to the washbag on his bedside table, pulling out a small tube of lubricant he has for his own  personal use. 

 

Tom looks at it with a frown, then turns his attention back to Ryan.

 

“I suppose I’ll go and buy some more at dinner time,” he mutters. “That isn’t going to be enough.”

 

Not enough? Tom’s already planning ahead. Tom’s taking him to bed again after dinner. They’ll need more lube because Tom wants to have more sex-

 

Ryan’s cock throbs, and the frown on Tom’s face instantly melts into a smirk.

 

“No objections, then?” Tom asks, plucking the lubricant out of Ryan’s fingers. He inches forward, leaving Ryan’s cock hard and alone as he leans over Ryan’s chest. Ryan watches with rapt attention as Tom covers his fingers in lube and then reaches behind himself, his eyes widening and his balls tightening slightly when he realises that Tom is fingering himself, stretching himself for him. 

 

“Oh, God,” he breathes, watching between Tom’s legs as his hand moves up and down. “How many fingers?”

 

“One right now,” Tom replies calmly. “You want more?”

 

“Three,” Ryan says, dragging his eyes up to meet his lovers, challenging him. “I know you can fit three in.”

 

“Of course I can-” Tom purrs, shifting his legs apart slightly more.

 

Ryan watches his expression, the delicate little frown knitting his brow as his body is stretched, the glorious wash of pleasure that takes its place when Tom fills himself.

 

“I’m gonna get you on your back one of these days and watch you finger yourself for me,” Ryan growls, his self control ebbing away rapidly as he sees Tom’s dick throb and leak, sees Tom’s hips lift, trying to thrust.

 

“You need me inside you, don’t you, baby boy?” Ryan asks, though it’s bordering on a command rather than a question.

 

“Am I still your baby boy?” Tom asks, looking down at Ryan with a heated, longing expression.

 

_ You’re my everything,  _ Ryan doesn’t say, lifting his hands to press them against Tom’s hips. “Course you are. You know how much I’ve missed you?”

 

Tom doesn’t answer, but Ryan sees the slight flicker of something on the other man’s face as his fingers slip from his body. He edges back, taking hold of Ryan’s cock and guiding it to his eager, stretched entrance.

 

Ryan’s head falls back against the pillows, his mouth open in a silent cry of pleasure. Tom’s body slides down around him, and he can hear the boy’s ragged breathing, feels the contractions of muscles around his dick. He needs to not lose control yet, he wants to have Tom screaming his name first.

 

Tom is barely seated in his lap before he lifts up again, and Ryan is the one unable to stay silent, letting out a surprised cry that dissolves into moan after moan as Tom rides him. He’s shifting in Ryan’s lap every time he descends, moving around until he finds the angle he wants, the angle that brings the most agonisingly beautiful scream from his lips. 

 

“Oh Jesus, Oh my God,” Ryan pants. That’s just what he wants, that noise. Those cries that fall again and again from Tom’s lips as he rides Ryan, making Ryan’s cock slide against his prostate over and over. Now he doesn’t have to hold back. His hands grip Tom’s hips hard, moaning in time with the motion of their bodies, complementing the cries that are coming from his lover.

 

Beneath them the bed creaks, and Ryan loves that. The power of their sex is making the springs groan. Both of them are increasing in pitch and volume, Tom’s movements are becoming shallower, Ryan can feel his body tightening rapidly, which only brings his own orgasm racing through him, his cock pulsing inside Tom, filling him. He cries out, not caring about anyone in his neighbouring room, and moments later he hears Tom scream again, feels him clench almost painfully around his sensitive dick. Ryan forces his eyes open and watches Tom cover his belly and chest, his head thrown back. God, he’s gorgeous. 

 

And  _ fuck _ .

 

Fuck that was so good.

 

Fuck.

 

Ryan stares up at the glorious boy in his lap, glowing with sweat, his hair a mess, skin flushed, and come decorating his torso. Tom is panting, shivering, it’s the most beautiful thing Ryan has ever seen in his life.

 

Then he notices where his fingers have been pressing into Tom’s hips, the marks they’ve left. Well, he rather likes that, too.

 

Both of them are breathing heavily, Tom’s fingers are trembling as they run over Ryan’s chest, and Ryan loosens the bruising grip on his hips to move his hands gently down to Tom’s thighs.

 

He doesn’t know what to say. Ryan doesn’t know what to say now. He doesn’t want to do anything that will make Tom leave.

 

“Fuck,” Tom echoes Ryan’s thoughts with a lovely smirk on his lips, lips that are very soon pressed against Ryan’s again, a slow, purposeful kiss. Ryan’s arms wrap around Tom, and even though it means his cock slips from Tom’s body, Ryan wants him closer. And Tom seems very willing. He settles against Ryan’s chest, resuming the kiss as though there’s nowhere else he wants to be.

 

Ryan is in heaven. Tom is showing no sign of leaving. They’re kissing, touching gently, pressing as close as they can. Tom’s fingers come to rest in Ryan’s hair, and Ryan’s slide up to run softly up and down his back.

 

The opening lines of  _ Hooked on a Feeling _ blares through the haze around them, and both men turn to look in the direction of Ryan’s pants, which are buzzing on the floor by the bed.

 

Tom grins and stretches, reaching for them, pulling out the phone and dropping it gently onto Ryan’s chest before rolling off to settle at his side, curling up contentedly like this is where he's always been.

 

Momentarily distracted by the domesticity of their positions, Ryan manages to forget his phone is ringing until he sees Tom’s expression, the gesturing flick of his eyes and the adoring smile that follows.

 

“Oh, yeah-” Ryan picks up his phone and stares at Chris Pratt’s face on the screen.

 

“Hey, man-”

 

“Ry, you left your pass and all your shit here. You didn’t pick it up?”

 

Oh. No. He’d been distracted.

 

“Oh-”

 

“I picked ‘em up for you. You wanna get them at dinner?”

 

“Uh-” Ryan’s brain is still too blissed out to think of an excuse. “Sure. Thanks man.”

 

“No problem. See you in the restaurant in like, fifteen minutes?”

 

“Sure. Yeah, yeah-” Ryan agrees. Can he take Tom? Is that too official? There would be questions. But Chris and Tom know each other. But Chris would also notice Ryan unable to focus on anything at all aside from the kid next to him.

 

“You got a dinner date?” Tom says once Ryan has hung up.

 

“I won’t be long,” he starts, but he’s stopped with a gentle touch of fingers to his lips. 

 

“No. Take your time. No rush,” Tom murmurs, tracing his fingers to the corner of Ryan’s mouth.

 

_ But there is _ , Ryan wants to say. He  _ wants _ to rush back to Tom. Any moment not with him seems like a waste.

 

“It’s not a date,” Ryan adds. “It’s just Chris Pratt. It’s not a date.”

 

Tom smiles and leans over, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips that Ryan eagerly moves towards. 

 

“I’ll see you after dinner, then,” he murmurs, climbing over Ryan to find his clothes. 

 

“No!” It’s too soon. They’ve just found each other again. Ryan isn’t ready for more hours to pass between them. He reaches out to grab Tom’s hand, knowing full well he sounds desperate and needy, but he doesn’t care. 

 

“I need to go shower and get more lube,” Tom says gently, leaning down for another kiss. “You need to shower and go and pick up your things. It’s not going to be long.”

 

“When you’re as old as me every moment counts,” Ryan pouts. 

 

Tom slides his leg back over Ryan’s chest and settles on top of him again, their mouths pressing together in a slow, dirty kiss. “Well, maybe I should bring you some cod liver oil instead of lube. I don’t want to kill you, old man. When’s your bed time?”

 

“Ha ha,” Ryan sneers, flipping Tom over so that he’s pressed into the bed beneath him. He feels Tom’s cock twitch. Impressive. Tom arches against him, making a soft little noise, needy almost. Ryan knows he’s being played with, but it’s working anyway. He only has fifteen minutes. 

 

“We’ll make up for lost time later,” Tom whispers. “I promise. If you want-”

 

“Of course I want,” Ryan says, maybe too quickly. “Of course I want.”

 

“I’ll see you after dinner.”

 

***

 

Ryan tries to keep himself present in the conversation with Chris at dinner. They speak of their respective schedules, once Ryan has looked at his, discuss the merits of meet and greets and the slightly more questionable things fans asked of them. There’s a panel Saturday evening with a fine selection of the MCU actors, of which Chris and Tom are two. Ryan’s going to turn up to watch that. Or at least watch his boy. It’s difficult to focus though, as his eyes flicker around the room every ninety seconds or so, trying to find Tom. He didn’t say anything about his own dinner plans, Ryan doesn’t know if he’s alone or with someone, and if he’s with someone who is he with? He feels like a jerk, feels like an idiot at the beginning of a relationship where everything is consumed by his lover and no one else can hold as much interest. He feels bad for Chris, but Chris is a good man, he’s happy to be here, he doesn’t seem to notice that Ryan is only half here with him. 

 

He’s a terrible friend. He’ll have to make it up to Chris somehow. One day. Just not this weekend.

 

***

 

Ryan lays quietly, dejectedly on his bed. He's been in his room, alone,  for nearly an hour. It's only half seven but it feels so much later. He's just going to stay here, he decides, until the next day, when he'll wake up and get on with the convention stuff and then come back here to lay again. By that time his pillow cases and sheets will have been changed and they won't smell of Tom. Tom barely touched them, but Ryan is sure he's surrounded by him. Tom hasn't come back. He won't come back.

 

He's so convinced of that that he ignores the knock on his door. And the second one. Only when he hears his name called from the other side does he drag himself to his feet and slouch across the room, pulling open the door and frowning into the hallway.

 

Tom stands there with a similar frown on his face, looking soft and unearthly and so lovely.

 

"Ryan?" he asks. "What's wrong?"

 

Ryan is an idiot for wallowing, for having a pissy fit because Tom hadn't come running right back to him as soon as Ryan was done eating. He allows himself a moment to let the shame was over him in a sickening, prickling wave, and then lets his focus fall completely back on Tom. Twom, who is holding a carrier bag, wearing a hoodie two sizes too big for him, and sweatpants. He's barefoot, hair fluffy and tousled-

 

"Hey, baby boy," Ryan composes himself, squashes down his feelings of being a complete idiot. "I was napping, sorry." 

 

"Alright, old man," Tom smiles, pressing his hand to Ryan's chest and nudging him backwards so that he can follow him into his room. "Did you enjoy dinner?"

 

"Mhm. What's in the bag?" Ryan asks.

 

Tom holds it up, smiling. "Just some bits and pieces- lube, my toothbrush, deodorant-"

 

He's staying the night, Ryan's brain quickly assures him. Tom is staying with him. 

 

"Everything you need for a good night in," he tries to sound casual but he has no idea what to do with himself, with this realisation, this new, brilliant situation. 

 

Tom drops the bag on the bed and then pulls off his hoodie. Ryan is itching to touch his now bare skin, but he's again left surprised when Tom initiates contact, stepping forward into his arms. 

 

"Dinner with me tomorrow-" Tom says quietly before pressing their lips together. 

 

"Anything," Ryan murmurs.

 

"Anything?"

 

"Anything," Ryan affirms.

 

"Bed," Tom says. "Clothes off."

 

He pulls away and Ryan follows, obediently pulling off his shirt and discarding it on the floor, then moving his hands to the zip of his jeans.

 

Tom looks a little flustered as he stands by the bed, smiling nervously. Ryan has kicked off his jeans before he reaches his lover, stopping in front of him, cock already at half mast and shit, they've barely kissed. 

 

"You ever had anyone inside you?" Tom asks, fingers plucking at the waistband of Ryan's underwear.

 

Ryan exhales. "You wanna fuck me, baby boy?"

 

Tom's blush is instant and incredible, colouring his cheeks and chest. "I wondered if you'd want- or if you're happy with things the way they are."

 

"I want to do everything to you and with you," Ryan whispers. "Everything." He waits a moment for Tom to respond, but he’s very silent, his cheeks slowly filling with colour. “You want to-” Ryan starts, his dick twitching with interest. “You- have you ever been inside another guy?”

 

Tom shakes his head, and Ryan is painfully relieved, the jealousy that had swelled up at his question quickly abated. “But I wasn’t planning on getting fucked for the rest of my life,” he says with a little frown, as though Ryan might be mocking him.

 

Oh, he’s far, far from mocking. Ryan pushes his underwear down and gets onto the bed, his back against the headboard and his legs spread, knees drawn up slightly. Tom takes in a deep breath and stares quite unashamedly at Ryan’s dick, and then down further, between his parted legs.

 

“You trust me?” Tom asks, as though there’s a possibility that Ryan doesn’t, that Ryan sitting there with his legs spread is no indication of how on board he is with Tom’s idea.

 

“Of course I trust you,” he says gently. “Come here.”

 

Tom joins him on the bed, still in his pajama bottoms, though Ryan can see the outline of his erection clearly through the fabric. He crawls between Ryan’s legs, lining their bodies up as he leans in for a kiss. Already Ryan likes his weight on top of him. Already he can feel an ache inside him wanting Tom’s attention.

 

They kiss lazily, rubbing against each other, Tom’s hips rolling slowly in a way that almost makes Ryan whimper desperately. He doesn’t want to rush him, but Ryan is worried he’s going to be too on edge to handle Tom touching him or fucking him.

 

“Sweetheart, please-” he rasps, hands wandering down the body on top of him, reaching the younger man’s arse and squeezing, grinding their lower bodies together. “Please?”

 

“I didn’t know- didn’t know you’d want it this much,” Tom replies, a similar rasping, husky tone to his voice. 

 

“Want everything with you-” Ryan murmurs, a heavier sentiment than his previous words but he’s too needy to care for the moment. “Please?

 

Tom sits up after a parting kiss, reaching for the bag he’d discarded earlier and pulling out a promisingly large tube of lubricant.

 

He can see Tom's fingers trembling as he tries to open the sealed lid, his cheeks flushed, lips swollen and parted. He looks dazed and so, so lovely.

 

Ryan wants to ask him if he needs help, but he seems too determined to do this on his own.

 

The lid comes off finally, though a blob of lube escapes and lands on the sheets. Tom looks at it mutely, blinks, then glances at Ryan, who waits patiently against the pillows.

 

"You're doing fine, baby boy," he nods. "Take your time."

 

He wants Tom desperately, but he also doesn't want to put him off the experience. So he waits as Tom covers his fingers in the lubricant and inches between Ryan's parted legs.

 

Ryan sucks in a short breath at the cold press at his entrance, immediately forcing himself to relax again. Tom is watching him intently, but he's done this to himself and had Ryan do it, he knows how it goes. 

 

One finger slides into his body and this time Ryan sighs. It's been a while, which doesn't help, but it feels good. Tom seems pleased with this reaction, curling his finger just a little and grinning when Ryan’s body jerks.

 

"Oh," Ryan gasps. It really has been a while. He'd forgotten that feeling. 

 

Tom drags his finger slowly in and out of Ryan, apparently enjoying the reactions he's getting if the smirk on his face is anything to go by. It's difficult for Ryan to keep his eyes open and focused, but as soon as they slip closed a second finger pushes in beside the first. He whimpers at the stretch, everything hot and cold at once, but his legs spread more, opening himself up- 

 

“Keep going-” he whimpers, digging his own fingers into the sheets as Tom resumes the previous drag, the gentle rub that he’d been doing before. He can hear Tom smile every time his body twitches with the curling fingers inside him, dribbles of precome leaking over his abs. 

 

Tom’s cock is tenting his bottoms, though Ryan can barely focus on anything but the sparks of pleasure pulsing through him. 

 

“Tommy, please-” Ryan whines. “Please, please, please-”

 

“You, but- only two fingers-” Tom replies.

 

“It’s fine. It’s fine, you can stretch me out-” Ryan rasps. “Please, please?”

 

“Will you keep begging?”

 

“I’ll do anything you want,” Ryan continues, his voice reaching a desperate pitch. “Come on.”

 

He thinks he hears Tom chuckle, but he’s more interested in the sound of fabric being eased down and slick fingers moving over hot skin. 

 

Tom has only lowered his bottoms, he hasn’t removed them completely, and there’s something so sexy about that. Ryan waits, almost holding his breath when he feels Tom moving closer.

 

“Okay?” Ryan asks, lifting a hand to run his fingers through Tom’s hair. Tom nods, one hand on Ryan’s thigh, the other lining his head up with Ryan’s entrance. “You won’t hurt me-” he adds, wanting nothing more than to push his hips down and have Tom inside him immediately. But he’s going to be patient.

 

Tom doesn’t need too much patience, though. As soon as the top of his cock is pushing past the tight muscles, he seems more than ready.

 

“Yeah,” Ryan breathes as Tom inches forward, teasing him with the prospect of being filled. The slowness is tormenting, teasing. “Yeah, Tommy, more, yes, more, please-”

 

Ryan isn’t above begging. At all. Especially since it was requested. His fingers tug at Tom’s hair desperately, not expecting to have him lean forward, to bring himself down for a kiss, sliding himself closer as he does so, his dick pushing all the way into Ryan.

 

Ryan gasps at the sensation of suddenly being filled, letting out a shaky moan as he exhales.

 

Tom is whimpering against his neck, his whole body trembling. Ryan knows he must be tight. It’s been so long.

 

He yelps when Tom gives and experimental roll of his hips, drawing back just slightly and pushing in again, hard and deep. 

 

“Oh God,” Ryan gasps, feeling his muscles tense around Tom, who groans in turn. “Again, do that again.”

 

The younger man very willingly complies, pulling back just a short way before rolling his hips forward and filling Ryan again. This time there is no following pause, this time Tom carries on, setting a rough little rhythm of thrusts that has Ryan keening. 

 

His nails press and stroke Tom's shoulder blades alternately, gripping and caressing as his muscles do the same. Tom's breaths carry soft moans to his ear, uncontrolled thrusts varying in depth so that every other one brushes against Ryan's prostate, keeping him bubbling, simmering in pleasure. If he reaches down and touches himself it'll probably only take seconds, but he wants to enjoy himself, he wants Tom to enjoy himself.

 

And by the sound of the increasingly loud moans, his lover is having a wonderful time.

 

Ryan feels Tom's body beginning to stutter in that way that indicates a pending orgasm. Ryan wonders if Tom would obey if he told him not to come, but they don't quite have that kind of thing  going on. Maybe next time. He'll see what games Tom likes in bed. 

 

"You coming, baby boy?" Ryan asks, smirking as Tom cries out in reply. Yeah. Good boy. Ryan draws his knees up slightly more so that the hard little thrusts bump into his prostate and Ryan's muscles clench and tremble, his head thrown back against the pillow as Tom moans against his neck. Ryan realises he doesn't even really need to touch himself, Tom's firm tummy is doing a brilliant job of rubbing him off as Tom ruts into him. Ryan is teetering on the edge, and the blissful, beautiful cry of Tom's pleasure is what tips him over seconds after his lover comes.

 

It’s perfect. It’s a perfect moment and Ryan can almost feel tears prickling in the corners of his eyes as he feels Tom’s lips moving softly over his skin, hot little fluttering kisses that are good because Ryan wasn’t expecting them. He wasn’t expecting the tenderness. Tom is surprising him a lot. 

 

“Are you okay?” Tom whispers, his breath warm against Ryan’s jaw.

 

“Mhm, so okay,” Ryan replies, turning his head towards Tom, their lips touching gently. “Was it okay for you?”

 

He feels his boy’s lips curl in a smile. “Yeah, it was pretty- pretty good.”

 

Ryan chuckles gently, reaching his fingers up to run them through Tom’s hair. “You were- you- I really enjoyed it.”

 

Tom continues to smile, leaning down and kissing Ryan softly as he slips back and out, drawing another moan from the older man. The sudden emptiness is uncomfortable, as though Tom belongs right there, and without him Ryan isn’t complete. 

 

That’s the stupidest thing he’s ever thought.

 

Tom rolls onto the bed beside him, sweaty and messy and glowing in the soft room lighting. He stretches and Ryan’s eyes drink in every flexing muscle of his body, down to his slowly softening cock. 

 

“Maybe we should shower?” Tom murmurs, though he’s snuggling down on the bed as though he actually has no intention of doing that. It’s probably a good idea though. They can’t turn up to the convention smelling of sex, and if they both try and shower in here tomorrow Ryan can guarantee they’re going to be late. 

 

“Come on,” he says, sitting up gingerly as unused muscles complain about their sudden flexibility. “Shower. Then we’ll order some cake or something on room service.”

 

Tom  understands the bribe and drags himself to the edge of the bed, standing on wobbly legs and following Ryan into the bathroom. 

 

The shower is nice. Not just the water itself, which is hot and strong and soothing, but it’s intimate and comforting. Their hands move slowly over each other’s skin, soaping and rinsing and sometimes just touching. Ryan soaps up Tom’s hair, moulds it into shapes until Tom swats his hands away and rinses himself down. It’s easy. Being together is easy.

  
  


 

“I just- sleep around,” Tom chuckles about half an hour later, cutting his stack of pancakes into tiny bite sized pieces before he pours the syrup on. “I mean- you know I don’t mean it like that. I don’t have a house out here. I just move around where I’m needed.” He’s answering Ryan’s question about where he lives, where abouts in America he’s chosen to settle. 

 

Ryan knows the feeling and says as much. His choice of dessert is a slice of pecan pie, which he has drowned in cream. “When I first started working I pretty much just lived in whatever trailer I had, kept extra stuff in my car. Wasn’t exactly living the dream.”

 

“You have a beautiful home now, though,” Tom replies, making sure each of his little pieces gets a blob of syrup. “From what I saw of it. Do you have a pool?”

 

Ryan nods. “Of course. That’s the American way.”

 

Tom chuckles. “I want a house with a pool. And a balcony. And a games room in the basement.”

 

“I have one of those, too,” Ryan says. “Games room.”

 

Tom’s attention is drawn away from his pancakes. “Really?”

  
“Really really. Next time you’re nearby let me know,  you can stop over and play.”

 

He’s surprised at the look Tom gives him then, a smirky frown that makes his thoughts unreadable.

 

“What?” Ryan asks, spoon poised halfway to his mouth.

 

“Do you really think if I’m in your neighbourhood I’m going to come over and waste my time playing games? Unless you’re giving me a spare key when you’re away shooting somewhere.”

 

“You’re welcome any time you like, even if I’m not there,” Ryan replies with all sincerity, though his brain is fixated on Tom’s previous implication. If he came to visit Ryan, he’s not going to...to waste time in the games room… “If you’re filming nearby you can use it as your base if you don’t want to live out of your trailer or hotel room or whatever they give you.”

 

Tom smiles a little bashfully. “That’s really kind of you. I’ll let you know,” he nods, smile not fading from his face. If anything his grin is slightly bigger, slightly brighter. “You want some pancake?” He holds two sticky squares out on his fork, leaning over to feed them to Ryan, who moves forward to accept without thought.

 

“Pecan pie?” he murmurs around his mouthful, cutting a chunk off and offering his spoon to Tom, watching with great interest as the younger boy leans in, parts his lips, and closes them painfully seductively around the spoon. Tom makes a sinfully sweet noise as he chews and swallows, and Ryan is never going to look at pie the same way again.

 

“I’ve never had that before,” Tom sighs. “It’s delicious.”

 

“My mom makes the best pecan pie in the whole of Canada,” Ryan replies proudly. 

 

Tom’s eyes level on his for a few moments. “I’ll look forward to trying it one day,” he says quietly, a flash of colour rising in his cheeks before he goes back to ensuring the even distribution of syrup over his pancake chunks. 

 

Ryan stares at him in absolute wonder. He’d thought he was too old for butterflies and romantic daydreams and dreaming about the future. He’d thought he was too old for teenage feelings of falling in love. He wants to carve their initials on a picnic table. He wants to write poems. He wants to tell everyone he knows that he has this boy who is all of his dreams made real. 

  
  


Tom’s head rests against Ryan’s chest a few more hours later. He’d moved there of his own accord, sleepily cuddling up against Ryan’s side as they’d watched a marathon of Storage Wars. They haven’t had sex again. Just talked, watched TV, cuddled. Ryan was expecting a different kind of marathon, admittedly. He was expecting Tom to want to go again and again. He was expecting the whole night, possibly the whole weekend to just be sex. He isn’t complaining, not by a long shot. But when he was convincing himself that Tom was only interested in something physical it was somehow easier. Now- he doesn’t know what his boy wants. 

 

He hears a little chuckle against his chest and tips his head to press a kiss into Tom’s hair. Tom cuddles even closer, breathing out a soft, contented sigh. Right now he wants Ryan, and he wants to be here with Ryan. So Ryan will take that. He’ll savour this weekend and being the person Tom wants. He’ll indulge his own fantasy for two more days and then worry about what Tom wants.

 

Right now it's Ryan. And that’ll do.

 


End file.
